


Calloused, Swollen Feet (Hurts too Much to Ignore)

by Yoko_Fujioka



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Attempted Poetry, M/M, Symbolism, Unrequited Love, attempted anyway www, honestly way more angsty than it had to be, introspective, midotaka is more if you squint really, that turned out really prosy for some reason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 12:04:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3208502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoko_Fujioka/pseuds/Yoko_Fujioka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I like to think that I was born with a few more callouses on my feet than most,<br/>The glass never cutting as deep<br/>Or scarring as unforgivingly.<br/>But that was before the first<br/>Green piece<br/>Intercepted my path,<br/>Foreboding but unavoidable,<br/>Cutting the soles of my feet so bad<br/>I wanted to curl up on the side of the road<br/>And give up walking altogether.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calloused, Swollen Feet (Hurts too Much to Ignore)

**Author's Note:**

> Didn't really intend to write anything else until I finished the next chapter of "the best is yet to come" (sorry, no real promise on when I can have that done :cc) but I found about the "misdirection: guess the author” event and REALLY wanted to give it a try! Admittedly my general writing style (as in like how I wrote in everything from formal essays to fanfiction) is essentially self-taught from writing and reading fanfiction, so I'm not really aware enough of my style to know how to write in a way that isn't obviously mine. 
> 
> I do know at the very least that I tend to write in a very prose/flowery fashion with lots of run-on sentences, though, so I thought poetry would be the best way to go undercover! Introspective/deep stuff like this isn't the kind of things I've posted so far, either, so I was so, so sure and proud of myself when I finished this...until I realized that it was way, WAY, under the word count. Like wow. OTL
> 
> Still really, really wanted to post this, but I have to say ahead of time that I seriously dislike poetry, and I have no freakin' idea how to space this stuff correctly, so reading this makes me cringe. Advice would be much appreciated ♥

“Life is a winding road” is an overdone cliché

But it’s impossible to deny the glass strewn down the path.

Some pieces are small but sharper than they appear,

Cutting where you’re most vulnerable,

While others are large but too pretty to ignore,

Luring many to its siren call despite the obviously sharp rocks right beneath the stern.

I like to think that I was born with a few more callouses on my feet than most,

The glass never cutting as deep

Or scarring as unforgivingly. 

But that was before the first

Green piece

Intercepted my path,

Foreboding but unavoidable,

Cutting the soles of my feet so bad 

I wanted to curl up on the side of the road

And give up walking altogether. 

Tenacity being my “charm point” I tried to continue on,

Determined not to let it get the better of me,

But it still shocked me where and when it appeared,

So sudden I couldn’t avoid it, 

The color just as dazzling as before

But cutting even deeper,

Re-opening freshly scabbed wounds I had been trying so hard to forget. 

I promised myself “one more try”

And looked up to see

G R E E N

As far as the eye could see.

The glass hurt less and less the more I walked, though, 

Until one day I Iooked down 

And realized the edges were almost entirely rounded,

Soft and worn.

I pocketed a piece as I walked by,

Pace quickening as I eagerly expected my vision to be filled with green…

Except there was none left.

Desperately dashing forward,

I didn’t even pay attention to where I was going,

Vicious stakes slicing me to ribbons as I passed by.

I didn’t even notice, 

Didn’t care, 

At least until I finally toppled over,

Now slicing my hands and body

Where I could no longer even hold myself up.

I dragged myself forward the rest of the way,

Sorting through nothing but gradients of grey

For the one thing I wished for most in the world. 

But nothing.

 

 

Finally, I gave up.

**Author's Note:**

> It's up to you if Midorima disappeared because he died, rejected a love confession, or if they just slowly drifted apart as adults. Same with Takao: "giving up" could be the end of his road, excepting the inevitability of going on with his life, or any alternatives you can think of (that I'd much like to hear about~)
> 
> I'm probably going to end up saying this on every single thing I write ever (including the old stuff on ff.net I mostly just pretend never happened) but this got way out of hand with the sad. At first I was just planning to vaguely imply that they got together (or at the very least, that Takao confessed and then the readers all mostly assume that they got happily married because I'm an obsessed sap) but then...yea. Admittedly I'm not really cut out for writing any long-term stories, I mostly just plan all the major things I want to happen and then bullshit the rest of it, and that's exactly what happened here~ I never managed to think of an alternative ending, though, so this is the way it will most likely stay.
> 
> If I ever get the time (read: patience) I'll probably post a second chapter to this just as what it would have been like if had written it in my usual prose-style, aka with lots more details and tears and WHOOPS. (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻ .
> 
> Constructive criticism would be wonderful~~ (and I still need a Beta Reader...sobs)


End file.
